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Thus with hir fader for a certeyn space Dwelleth this flour of wyfly pacience, That neither by hir wordes ne hir face Biforn the folk, ne eek in her absence, Ne shewed she that hir was doon offence.

Geoffrey Chaucer

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Geoffrey Chaucer
Died: 1400
Died: October 25
Astrologer
Linguist
Lyricist
Philosopher
Poet
Politician
Translator
Writer
London
England
Chaucer
Geoffrey Chaucer
Flour
Face
Offence
Space
Folk
Faces
Patience
Absence
Folks
Shewed
Thus
Doon
Neither

More quotes by Geoffrey Chaucer

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If no love is, O God, what fele I so? And if love is, what thing and which is he? If love be good, from whennes cometh my woo? If it be wikke, a wonder thynketh me
Geoffrey Chaucer
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But all thing which that shineth as the gold Ne is no gold, as I have herd it told.
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Remember in the forms of speech comes change Within a thousand years, and words that then Were well esteemed, seem foolish now and strange And yet they spake them so, time and again, And thrived in love as well as any men And so to win their loves in sundry days, In sundry lands there are as many ways.
Geoffrey Chaucer
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The lyf so short, the craft so long to lerne.
Geoffrey Chaucer
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This world nys but a thurghfare ful of wo, And we been pilgrymes, passynge to and fro.
Geoffrey Chaucer
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Ful wys is he that kan hymselven knowe.
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For tyme y-lost may not recovered be.
Geoffrey Chaucer
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Thou shalt make castels thanne in Spayne And dreme of joye, all but in vayne.
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Men sholde nat knowe of Goddes pryvetee Ye, blessed be alwey, a lewed man That noght but oonly his believe kan! So ferde another clerk with astromye, He walked in the feelds, for to prye Upon the sterres, what ther sholde bifalle, Til he was in a marle-pit yfalle.
Geoffrey Chaucer
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For tyme ylost may nought recovered be.
Geoffrey Chaucer
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If gold rusts, what then can iron do?
Geoffrey Chaucer
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Alas, alas, that ever love was sin! I ever followed natural inclination Under the power of my constellation And was unable to deny, in truth, My chamber of Venus to a likely youth.
Geoffrey Chaucer
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Many a true word is spoken in jest
Geoffrey Chaucer
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He who accepts his poverty unhurt I'd say is rich although he lacked a shirt. But truly poor are they who whine and fret and covet what they cannot hope to get.
Geoffrey Chaucer
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That of all the floures in the mede, Thanne love I most these floures white and rede, Suche as men callen daysyes in her toune.
Geoffrey Chaucer
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But manly set the world on sixe and sevene And, if thou deye a martir, go to hevene.
Geoffrey Chaucer
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The smylere with the knyf under the cloke.
Geoffrey Chaucer
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'My lige lady, generally,' quod he, 'Wommen desyren to have sovereyntee As well over hir housbond as hir love.'
Geoffrey Chaucer
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Ther is no newe gyse that it nas old.
Geoffrey Chaucer
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Whan that Aprill with his shoures soote The droghte of March hath perced to the roote.
Geoffrey Chaucer